


Tend Your Wounds

by ke_xia



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ke_xia/pseuds/ke_xia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire's travels through the stones take her back to the time when Jamie was even younger, when he had just been flogged. She finds herself a prisoner as well of Black Jack Randall's at Fort William and is sent to care for Jamie's flogging wounds. </p><p>Little did BJR know that he had just introduced two soulmates, and oh, the damage they could do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tend Your Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of prompts sent in to [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/tagged/%3Btend-your-wounds) on tumblr, written by Mod Eli. (That's me!) I'm posting them here for easier reading and in case there's anyone over here on AO3 who might not be on tumblr. Do feel free to check the blog out, though, and send in prompts if you have more ideas for our favorite pair!

> anonymous said:  
>  Imagine Claire had first travelled back a few years earlier and had taken care of Jamie at Leoch after he had been whipped, and that's when their relationship started

The _woman_ had been found wandering the countryside in her shift. An English lady, of all things. Randall had brought her in immediately.

She was a healer of sorts, had seen to one of his men on the ride back. So when it came to the filthy Scot he’d whipped, well, Randall decided one pathetic English ‘healer’ should be good enough- too good, even, for a Scottish criminal. So Captain Randall had handed her over to the corporal outside his door and ordered him to send her down to tend to Fraser.

Claire had been aware of some sort of going-on in the prison yard. She’d been giving a ‘room’ facing away, though, and had not been aware of what had happened. When she was summoned to Randall’s office (God, could he truly be Frank’s ancestor? The cruelty was etched in every line in his face, in the way he held himself. She simply couldn’t believe this man was related to the one she had married.) she’d feared the worst. What she certainly had not expected, was to be sent into the cells below to care for a man who’d been flogged to within an inch of his life. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Claire whispered when she saw the man lying on the coat, his back flayed open. She turned toward the corporal and roughly took the basket of supplies from him before rushing over to the cot. Hot tears burned in her eyes at the sight and her stomach churned at the thought of anyone being able to do such horrors to a person. Randall, she thought. It had to have been him. “Oh, Jesus, what has he done to you?” 

She shot a glare back at the dragoon that had brought her. “Get me boiled water. Boiled. With garlic and witch hazel. Now!” 

The man hadn’t moved, but he was breathing, so Claire knew he wasn’t dead. And she hadn’t touched him yet. No doubt he’d wake from this blessed unconsciousness he was currently in when she began to clean his back. She looked through the supplies they’d given her, deciding it would be most effective to simply lay large bandages over the wounds for now. She’d have to get some herbs, to make some poultices. She leaned in to examine the wounds, but the damned lighting was so bad, she really couldn’t see the true extent of the damage.

Her gaze trailed up to his face, turned toward her as it was. His eyes were closed, and he might have looked peaceful, were it not for the slight, pained crease in his brow. Claire lifted her hand and ran her fingers lightly through his red beautiful red hair, heart breaking when the corner of his lips twitched upward toward a tiny smile. 

She had been right, of course. When the corporal had returned with what she’d asked for, Claire had dipped the largest of the bandages into the water, waited for them to cool a bit, then had gently draped them over the man’s back. He woke with a start and a curse in Gaelic that made even Claire jump before she reached out to touch his arm. 

“It’s all right. Don’t move. I’m tending your back,” she said gently. 

Confusion pulled at his features and he was twisting around in an attempt to see her better. So Claire side and shifted to kneel next to the cot where he could see her better. “My name is Claire Beauchamp. I’m a nurse. You’re going to be all right now.” 

“J-Jamie Fraser,” he breathed. His gaze went to her chest. “Ye ken h-how to-”

She might have slapped him over the head, were he not so terribly injured. “Not a wet nurse, bloody hell. I’ve tended men who were injured in battle before. I know what I’m doing.” She hoped. She’d had modern medicine then. But now… no, she’d figure it out. No one deserved this, no matter what they’d done. And this man- God, he seemed so young. Too young to be ruined by this. 

There was surprise in his face at her reply, but he simply gave a small nod and relaxed, closing his eyes. “Aye, Mistress. I trust ye, then.”

And he did. He was still for her, though he shifted a little in discomfort now and again, sucked in a soft breath here and there when even the cool touch of the bandage was too much. When she’d done what she could with what she had, she touched a gentle hand to Jamie’s head. “I’ve got to make up some poultices for your back. I’ll be back in a little while. Will you drink some water, first?” 

“Aye, thank ye, Mistress.” 

It was an awkward maneuver, for Jamie couldn’t sit up, but they managed well enough. Claire dabbed with a bit of clean bandage and the corner of his mouth where some water had run out. “Call me Claire. I’ll be back.”

“Claire, then. I’ll just wait here.” His lips twitched toward a tiny smile that she couldn’t help but return. 

She tucked his hair back behind his ear and stood, heading back toward the door to call out to the guard. She was gone for a little while, in the prison surgeon’s surgery, where she found most of the things she needed to make proper poultices for Jamie’s back. When everything was set, she went back to Jamie’s cell. 

“Never heard of a soldier bringing his English lady to stay in a prison,” Jamie mused as she worked. 

“I think I just may be as much of a prisoner here as you are, Mr. Fraser.”

“Jamie.”

She smiled. “Jamie, then. I’m afraid the Captain found me rather… out of sorts and seems to think I’m- a spy? I’m not sure.”

“Randall’s taken an English lady prisoner. Christ.” 

“Madam,” the corporal called from the doorway. “I’m to escort you back to your chamber for your meal.”

“You will not,” Claire said, not bothering to look up from her work. “You will bring my food here, and a blanket, and I will stay with Mr. Fraser through the night. He’ll need my care continually.”

The corporal opened his mouth to protest, but she shot him a glare. “One cell is as good as any, is it not? I will stay here.”

The young man sputtered for a moment, then turned and marched resolutely away. 

“Ye dinna have t’stay wi’ me,” Jamie murmured. “It’ll be verra cold in here during the night. And you in yer shift. Have they no care to get ye a proper set of clothes?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll stay close to you. You radiate plenty of heat yourself.” 

He grunted at that, then hissed and winced as his back smarted. “Aye, I suppose I do.”

“Hush now, get some rest. I’ll wake you when dinner’s arrived.”

Jamie didn’t bother to protest. He was clearly exhausted, and he drifted off into a shallow sleep, trusting Claire to watch over him while he was out. And she didn’t mean to leave him for a moment.


End file.
